


I'm not a kid

by BrandiChampane



Series: catboys [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Catboy Castiel, Catboys & Catgirls, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandiChampane/pseuds/BrandiChampane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel goes into heat and asks for Dean’s help, but Cas is a minor and cat years don’t matter. (Cas gets his way. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not a kid

Dean nearly drops the plate his is washing when Castiel calls his name. The sound is shrieking making him set the plate down and catch his breath, what the hell could Castiel want so urgently. Ever since he got the cat boy, it has been one demand after the other, clothes, bed sheets, collars, bows, a brush, etc. Dean grumbles to himself and turns off the sink water.  


  
Castiel is lying on his stomach, bottom pushed into the air where his tail whips about back and forth. He is naked, always naked, even when Dean bought him a new wardrobe the day he complained about his pants being uncomfortable. Castiel demanded loose fitting shorts with neat holes cut into the back and sweaters he can climb into easily. It does not matter that Dean spent a paycheck on the clothing; Castiel still refuses to wear them.  


  
Castiel runs his fingers over the smooth sheets, silk per his request; the wool ones scratch his skin. He grips the sheets in one hand and runs the other over the material, straightening the wrinkles. His face is flushed, a rare sight, but Dean has chores he needs to finish without wasting time on silly observations. Dean runs a hand over his face, shielding most of it, the room smells pungent of what can only be described as a Cas like scent, he wrinkles his nose and stays at the threshold of the room.  


  
“What do you need now Cas?”  


  
“I need,” Castiel cuts himself off and flattens himself against the sheet, tail whipping against his thigh. “I need toys Dean.” Castiel averts eye contact and plays with a loose thread, ripping it from the fabric of the sheets.  


  
“Toys? Oh, of course you need toys,” Dean lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll head out after I finish the dishes. While I’m out can you please clean this room up, or change the sheets at least, smells like…just change them okay.”  


  
Castiel nods and sits on his knees, tugging the corner of the sheet from beneath the mattress. Dean stares at his feet when he catches sight of Castiel’s cock hanging between his legs, he wished that boy would just wear boxers. Castiel eagerly tosses the first sheet in Dean’s direction and he has to clamp his hand over his nose when the fabric knocks against him. He kicks it into the hallway and makes a mental note to wash them when he gets home.  


  
\--  


  
Dean wanders the isles of the pet store, poking at toys he thinks Castiel will like. He blames Sam for getting him into this situation, as soon as cat hybrids started popping up around town Sam whined about them needing homes and food. He was right; they were young and alone in a city that was not accommodating to them. When Sam came across one, narrowly hitting the boy with his car, he rushed him to the hospital where he was checked then treated for a broken rib. The small boy, unwisely, ran in front of his car, thinking he could make it across.  


  
Dean tried to fight it, but taking Cas in was inevitable. Sam was ridden with guilt, spewing nonsense about almost taking a life, and being lucky his car has sensitive brakes. He wanted the take Cas in himself, but Sam works for the agency all day, and his wife, Jess, had a baby to take care of already. Dean tried calling shelters and put up fliers, but everyone was full. After a month without a single phone call, he folded and decided to let the small creature stay with him, as long as he promised not to claw up any more furniture. Now, Dean has become the boys bitch, bending to his every whim. Dean drops another plastic mouse into his basket and moves down the aisle.  


  
A woman, short in stature, stands to his side observing a brand of fancy cat food, muttering about her prissy cat. Dean cannot help but snort at the barrage of words floating from her mouth they, truly, are humorous. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, then down at his hand where he is squeaking another toy. She laughs and shakes her head.  


  
“You’ve got another one of them too, don’t you?” Her voice drips like honey from her mouth and for a moment Dean wonders if she is from the south.  


  
“Yeah, little guy too, feisty.” He puts the toy back on the rack and picks up another.  


  
“My Anael, she hasn’t asked for toys. She’s mature for such a little thing. She’s feisty too, wants me to buy her coloring books and special food.” She points to the stack of food in front of her. “This week especially, she’s been so bratty. She’s like a little teenager lately, thought of was getting a cat, not a child.” She drops a box into her basket and takes a few steps back. “Well I’ll be seeing you around then, I guess.”  


  
Dean nods and waves as she parts. When she is out of earshot, Dean mentally kicks himself for not getting her name. He doubts he will see her around again, though, and picks up another toy, a felt covered mouse that squeaks when he presses the center. After testing a few more toys, Dean brings his basket to the checkout line and tosses them onto the conveyor belt. An older woman, maybe in her forties, scans them and bags them. She keeps eyeing Dean, as if she wants to say something but keeps on with her job. Dean is tired of the game and wants to know.  


  
“Something wrong?”  


  
“No, nothing.” She clears her throat and bags another toy.  


  
“What’s up with the staring them, I can feel a hole working right through me.”  


  
“Just, you have one of those cat boys don’t you?” Dean nods. “Well, it’s just, I’ve seen a lot of guys coming in like you. Their pets want toys, but not toys; you get what I’m saying?” She drops the final toy in the bag and begins removing it from the other bags it is stuck to.  


  
Dean nods and grabs his bag before pulling out his wallet and dropping a bill on the conveyer belt. The woman looks at him as if she is waiting for him to solve some sort of riddle so he nods again and makes his way for the door.  


  
“Yeah,” Dean says to himself, pushing into the night air. “Makes total sense.” He tosses the bag into the passenger seat of the Impala and starts the engine.  


  
\--  


  
When Dean gets home, Castiel has tossed all of his sheets into the hallway and is struggling to replace them. Dean rolls his eyes at Castiel’s feeble attempt to pull one corner beneath the mattress while keeping the other placated. He should have known Castiel would not be able to handle such a simple task, being that he is a boy from the wild. Dean drops the bag of toys in the room and grabs the air freshener, spraying the removed sheets and Castiel’s room.  


  
“I got you your toys. Move out of the way so I can do that.” Castiel leaps from the bed and attacks the bag while Dean replaces the sheets. After getting the first sheet down, he hears Castiel whine behind him.  


  
“What’s wrong, you don’t like squeaky toys?” Dean almost hates himself for concern in his tone, but he still wants Cas to be happy, even if he is a little brat. Dean shakes the second sheet, watching it gingerly settle on top of the other.  


  
“This isn’t what I meant, exactly.” Cas lifts a mouse by its tail and presses the center, releasing a sound that makes him drop it instantly. He picks it up again and raises an eyebrow at it. When he is able to make the toy release the sound again, he squints at it and drops it onto the pile of other toys.  


  
“You’re the one that said toys Cas.” Dean has finally gotten the second sheet down and is rifling through his closest for a comforter that Castiel will like. He successfully pulls a soft quilt that smells like a summer’s breeze from the closet and tosses it onto the bed. Dean sits beside it and begins pulling covers off pillows, replacing them with clean ones. When he is done, he tosses them to the head of the bed, knowing Castiel will only push them to the center later, making his own nest. He unravels the quilt and starts lining it up on the mattress when he hears a whimper.  


  
Castiel is sitting on his pile of toys, flicking them away, and one hand cupping his small cock. He groans and squirms in the corner of his room, huffing and fuming. His face is flushed again, lip pink from where he has been biting at it. His boney shoulders rise and fall with his breathes, small chest heaving as he grits his teeth.  


  
“Hey, no reason to cry over a few toys, okay.” Dean drops the quilt and kneels before Castiel, not wanting to get too close. “I’m sorry, alright. I can go back to the store and get you the ones you want, okay. No squeaky toys this time.” He rubs Castiel’s shoulder and tries to calm him.  


  
“I’m not a kitten Dean, I don’t want toys.” Castiel flicks another toy away from him. “I need-I’m,” he exhales and swirls a claw into the carpet, covering himself with the other hand. “Not those kind of toys, Dean.” He voice is a near whisper, squeaking with his age. Dean tries to work it through in his head, feeling his neck and face burn with the realization. He pulls his hand pack and sits against the bed frame, covering his face with both hands.  


  
“Oh my fuck, you cannot be serious,’ he peaks around one finger at the boy and groans. “You’re like, what, sixteen, seventeen. What do you need with toys?”  


  
Castiel pulls his knees to his chest and stares at the carpet. “I’m an adult where I’m from,” he defends himself. “That also means that I’m going through, I think you call it puberty. They’re sort of similar.”  


  
“Are you talking about going into heat Cas, cause let me tell you, those are two very different things.”  


  
“Well, that doesn’t matter, can you just get me some real toys please. This is…unpleasant.” His cheeks flush a deeper shade and Dean groans again. How he was roped into helping a teenage cat hybrid get sex toys, he will never know.  


  
“Just, make a list or something. I’ll get them in the morning.”  


  
Castiel moves from his spot in the corner, resting on his hands in knees, crawling closer to Dean. There is what looks like panic in his eyes and the smell is back. Dean covers his nose and presses against the bed frame, putting as much space between them as he can.  


  
“Dean, no tomorrow, now,” Castiel moves closer, almost urgent. “Dean, go.” He paws at Dean’s leg, pushing it towards the door. Dean pulls it against his chest.  


  
“Cas, none of the stores are open now, it’s going to have to wait. And back up a foot or two, you reek.”  


  
“Exactly why I need them now,” he pushes at Dean’s other foot, urging him to move.  


  
“Shit, Cas is that you’re mating scent or something?” He scrambles to his feet and steps towards the door.  


  
“Yes, actually. It lets the others know I’m in heat,” Cas whimpers and shifts on the floor, hissing when his palm brushes across his small cock. “Dean I need something now,” he is begging now, squirming in place, cutting into his lip with his teeth.  


  
“Hey, calm down you’re gonna hurt yourself. I thought female were the ones that went into heat, what the hell is this.”  


  
“I’m not really-I don’t- they don’t teach this to us,” Cas folds in on himself, claws squeezing into his thigh. “It just started a few days ago, what I know I got from your laptop, that’s where I found about the toys.” Dean wants to be upset that Castiel was using his laptop, but he looks so innocent and so pained that Dean swallows any complaint.  


  
“Oh, fucks sake. Well it’s not like I can pull up to some drive through toy store this late. You’re going to have to deal until the morning. Masturbate or something.” Dean covers his face when the words leave his mouth, shame coloring his cheeks.  


  
“It doesn’t help,” Castiel burrows his face into his knees and squirms again. “My fingers aren’t long enough.” The words are trapped in his lap and Dean struggles to make them out, jaw going tight when he does.  


  
When he thought of Castiel doing, that, he had a different image in mind. Why is Cas sharing all these detail anyways? It is not as if Dean needs to know this information. He backs up to the door and steadies himself against it. This kid is going to be the death of him.  


  
“Well, I can’t really help you Cas.”  


  
Castiel scrambles to his feet, stepping into Dean’s personal space, wide eyed. His tail whips behind him. The smell hits Dean again, stronger this time, but he does not cover his nose this time. Instead, he tries not to breathe through his nose.  


  
“You could, though,” Castiel’s voice is gentle, barely a whisper.  


  
“What?”  


  
“Just,” he exhales, inhales nervously. “Just your fingers, just for tonight. Please, this is just so, so uncomfortable. Just for tonight, Dean.” Dean swallows thickly and tries to steady his heartbeat. This kid is standing here, asking him to finger him? Dean shakes his head and backs out of the room, taking a breath of fresh air.  


  
“Dean, please,” Castiel whines, voice shrill and Jesus, it is not like Dean can just leave him here to cry and whimper like that. He thinks, maybe if he just shuts his eyes, focuses on the wall or something, he can just get it done. The boys so young, he should come quickly anyways. He grudgingly rolls up his sleeve, shaking his head at the idea.  


  
“We don’t talk about this when I’m done. You got that?” Castiel nods furiously, eager eyes roaming over his hands.  


  
Castiel crawls onto his quilt, moving it out of the way so he can lie on the soft sheets. His face flushes as he tries to find a comfortable position. He settles for on his knees, hands propping him up. Dean tries not to stare when he returns to the room with a bottle of lube; he contemplated a glove but decided that was more insulting than helpful. Castiel pulls his tail to the side, keeping it from swatting Dean in the face while he sits at the end of the bed. Dean pops the cap and spreads a generous amount of two fingers, shrugs, and lubes a third. Castiel eyes him over his shoulder and arches when he decides Dean is taking too long.  


  
Dean swallows a breath before guiding one finger to the boy’s entrance, turning his head to look at the wall once it is inside. Castiel moans and presses against it, seeking more. The sound makes Dean’s dick twitch, he rubs his palm against it and wills it to stand down, false alarm. He spends a few moments sliding the first finger in and out, until Castiel is begging for another, pressing against it when it is in. Dean hates that he likes the way he clenches around them, pulls them in greedily. His dick twitches again and he scolds himself.  


  
By the time Dean has worked a third finger in, Castiel is arching and moaning loud enough to echo. Dean’s dick strains in his pants and he swears Castiel should have come by now. He does not, he keeps meeting Dean’s thrusts, clawing into the sheets, making holes and Dean knows he will have to buy new ones. Dean peeks at him, Castiel’s face is flushed and sweat is dripping from his brow, his back glistening. Dean clears his throat and slows down his pace.  


  
“You, uh, if you stroke yourself, it helps, you know.” His voice breaks and he sounds like a teenager again, but dammit this is embarrassing for them both. Castiel just nods and shifts his weight so he can wrap a hand around himself. The angle is off and he is having difficulties and dammit if Dean’s going to have to do that too. He pushes Castiel’s hand out of the way and strokes it once, gathering up pre-come, and stroke it again.  


  
“Dean,” Castiel all but screams and bucks into his fist and Dean be damned if that is not that hottest thing he has ever seen.  


  
Castiel ruts into his hand, moaning and whimpering, pressing back onto his fingers, taking everything. Dean’s own arousal has been building inside of him, not amount of shame and anguish can stifle the way is dick strains in his jeans and begs to fill Castiel. Touching is not enough and he knows he is going to have to jack off, or find some girl in a bar after this one.  


  
“Shit Cas, you’re stupid ass doing things to me,” he mutters under his breath, unaware he is saying them out loud until Castiel stops rocking and gazes at him. Shit, Dean was not supposed to say that aloud, and Cas’ blown pupils and pink lips are just taunting him.  


  
Castiel groans as he pulls himself free of Dean’s fingers, breath shallow as he crawls closer, pulling at Dean to sit up straight. Dean does not have time to react before Castiel is crawling on his lap, unbuttoning his pants, letting his dick free. Castiel pulls at his boxers and jeans, sliding them down his hips and Dean hates himself when he pulls Castiel’s hands away.  


  
“Shit, Cas, you’re just a kid. I can’t do that.”  


  
“By your standards Dean, not mine.” Just like that, Cas is straddling him, sinking himself onto his cock and they both groan at the feeling. Cas is tight, unbelievably tight and Dean is going to cry when he pries his small body away from him.  


  
“Cas, you don’t understand, this is like six,” he moans when Castiel begins to shift his hips. “Six kinds of illegal. I can go to jail,” he loses his train of thought when Castiel begins riding him, eager to orgasm. “On top of that-oh fuck Cas- on top of that, you’re innocent. You-shitshitshit-you don’t know what you want, and this, this cannot be it.”  


  
Castiel cries out, finding the spot inside of him that’s perfect and rides Dean, pumping his hips, while Dean tries to grip them, fighting himself to pull Cas off.  


  
“Dean, shut up and fuck me,” Cas growls and Dean loses all sense of morality.  


  
He flips them, so Castiel is on his back, pushes his knees to his chest and slides in again, making Castiel whimper. Castiel throws his head back, baring his throat. Dean kisses the skin and bites at it, leaving small, pink marks that will be gone in the morning. He hovers over Castiel and thrusts into him something brutal, but Castiel is keening for it, circling his legs around Dean’s waist. His claws leave Dean’s back marked and sore, but he continues to thrust, feeling his orgasm build. Dean grips Castiel’s cock, stroking him, making him whine and moan, his name falling from the boy’s lips. When Castiel comes, he clenches around Dean, pulling him closer and closer until he finally comes, Cas’ name on his lips.  


  
Dean wants to be ashamed, humiliated for losing himself to a minor, but Castiel just burrows into his chest, ears tickling his chin. Lying on his back makes Dean hiss, the marks Castiel left being tender. Castiel kisses his chest and tries to sooth him, tail wrapping around his leg.  


  
“I’m not a kid Dean.” Dean knows he’s screwed when he starts to believe it.


End file.
